Page 9 of Without You

A year after we started full-time work, Mr. Duquette dropped dead right in the middle of the garage from a major heart attack. Wade and I were shocked and devastated at the loss. He’d not only been our boss but our mentor and a friend.

Since he hadno family, Wade and I were amazed to find out he left Duquette’s Drives to us. His whole business. It was a surprise, but one we both welcomed.

Over the years we’ve put all our spare money, and all our spare energy, into making sure Mr. Duquette’s legacy remains intact, while ensuring that our dreams and plans for the future were able to be carried out as well.

Now, we’re known as one of the most revered automotive houses in the state. We specialize in repairs, services, exteriors, and interiors. We can handle vintage cars, new cars, wiring and electronics. The list is endless, and with a team of some of the best mechanics I know, this place is home. This place is my life. This place is everything I’ve worked for and everything I’ll forever be proud of.

“Are you going to stand there staring at my ass or are you going to look over the schedule and decide what you want to pass off to everyone else while you’re away?”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” I say in jest. The haze of anger from the anticipation of my trip to Montana is finally starting to dissipate.

“It’s too much fun riling you up.”

I grab the clipboard off the workbench and walk over to him. “If we closed on the weekends, this wouldn’t really be a problem.”

Straightening his body, he puts the wrench on the engine and stares at me. I prepare myself for the well-deserved abuse coming my way. “You’re the one that wanted to stay open on Saturdays. I found the love of my life, and she wanted to spend every Saturday going to the markets and all I wanted was to hold her hand and hear her complain about the fish smell. I had to let go of that dream and nowyou’resaying we should be closing on Saturdays?”

“You get every second Saturday off,” I supply, trying to justify my selfish need to keep busy.

“Give me the schedule.” He holds his hand out and I give it to him. He trails his fingers down the page and then raises his head up. “We’ll rotate late nights on Thursdays and Fridays until we clear our Saturdays. And the weekend you leave will be the first weekend where the garage doesn’t open on Saturdays.”

I gesture for him to hand me back the clipboard. This is how it’s always been. Wade is nothing but positive and practical; always there to remind me, if there’s a will, there’s a way. The advice helps a lot when you’re the emotionally stunted one in the friendship. “I’m sorry.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “What are you sorry for?”

“I didn’t know how pussy whipped you were.”

A bark of laughter leaves his mouth, and he turns to get back to work on the car. “I’m going to tell the other guys the new hours,” I tell him. “I’ll be back in a bit to take over.”

He raises his hand to say bye, and just like that the tension between us is broken.

2

Julian

“What can I get you?”

A humorless laugh wafts across the bar. “I’ve been coming here every Wednesday night for the last year. Why do you insist on asking?”

I wipe the already clean bar top, giving my hands and body something to focus on, instead of the weary looking man in front of me.

Growing up, he was my best friend’s father—the only father figure I’ve ever remembered. But now he’s just a man in a bar that drinks to hide his pain, and I’m the guy that feeds his addiction.

Trying to ignore that he’s looking worse than usual, I turn to the wall behind me and grab the bottle of whiskey. I slide the shot glass in front of him and pour till it’s spilling over the rim. It’s not his usual, but as I watch him shoot it, and push the empty glass to me for another; I know he needs it.

I generally try to steer away from heavy chit chat, because he’s seeking as much distance from the past as I am, but tonight the words stumble out quicker than I can stop them.

“Are you okay?”

I know he isn’t. Rhett, his son—who was also my boyfriend—has been gone for almost twelve months, and with the holidays fast approaching, emphasis on our heartache and loss, feels inevitable.

“You don’t want to hear my shit, son. That’s not what I come here for.”

“Mr. Sutton.”

“It’s Bill, Julian. Nothing has changed in that way, just as I’ve been to you for years, you can still call me Bill.”

My eyes quickly scan the bar, making sure there isn’t anyone I need to attend. I walk around the countertop, and sit right beside Bill. “Is it Elaine?”

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